


Le meilleur de tous les mondes

by apricity



Category: Pan Am
Genre: F/F, Gen, Misses Clause Challenge, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-20
Updated: 2012-12-20
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apricity/pseuds/apricity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Colette and Kate face 1964, and the years after as befits representatives of Pan Am.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le meilleur de tous les mondes

**New Year’s Day, 1964, **New York**  
**

 

Colette leans on the balcony railing, watching the straggling groups stumble out of Times Square and the few remaining couples sway together under the still-bright lights.

 

She hears the pop of yet another cork over the music still blasting inside and a round of cheers. Colette begins to wonder just _how_ Maggie came into that money she spoke of, and decides with smile that she would probably rather not know.

 

The door opens and the volume of the music jumps She feels a scarf wrapped around her shoulders as Kate steps in beside her.

 

“You might not feel it, but you’re definitely cold,” Kate says as she presses one of the two champagne glasses she is carrying into Colette’s hand.

 

As she takes a sip, Colette muses that the tradition of starting the new year right nearly always results in a most unpleasant January first. But Kate’s smile is far too bright for Colette to share that thought, so she raises her glass to toast her friend.

 

“1964,” Kate says. Their glasses nearly miss one another, but they eventually manage an overly loud clink through their laughter.

 

“Puissions-nous être meilleurs et plus sages que nous l'étions en 1963”

 

“Always,” Kate returns.

 

They peer over the balcony for a while, watching the scene below with shoulders pressed together. Colette realizes she must have been cold before. She blames her failure to notice it before on Maggie and her two cases of champagne.

 

Kate nudges Colette’s shoulder. “So how do you plan to top being courted by royalty?”

 

“I promise you, I have no plans for dating in 1964,” she says, shaking her head, one hand half-covering her face.

 

“Maybe you’ll find yourself an emperor in the East.”

 

“Well in that case, perhaps I could be persuaded.” Colette smirks against the rim of her glass as she takes another sip.

 

“So, you’re still leaving us for life in the Orient?”

 

One corner of Colette’s mouth quirks into a half smile but she keeps her eyes down, focused on a point well above the people milling below.

 

“I put in my request for a transfer a few weeks ago, but I haven’t heard back yet. And now,” she pauses. “Knowing that I have a brother, out there somewhere.” She looks at Kate and her smiles spreads. It’s cautious, but it looks true. “I don’t know what I will do if they find a place for me in Hong Kong. A few days ago I was starting to feel like the end of 1963 had… run away with me, and it still feels like too many decisions to make. But,” she nods to the glass doors and Kate spots what looks like Ted and Maggie both making resolution proclamations. Glasses held high and good intentions on their faces, despite the sway in their postures giving away that these resolutions may well be forgotten or regretted in the morning. “it has conveniently created too many complications for me to make any resolutions. So tonight I just want to enjoy all the possibilities. Making decisions can begin in the morning.”

 

Someone’s resolution must have proven too provocative, because Maggie and Ted begin yet another one of the bickering matches Kate swears are reserved for brothers and sisters. Kate sees Dean, laughing, look past Maggie’s gesticulations and, spotting the two on the balcony, raise his glass.

 

Kate loops and arm through Colette’s and they return to the railing; there’s only one couple left in the square below now. “ _All_ the possibilities, huh?”

 

When Colette turns to her with a questioning glance, Kate puts on a look innocent curiosity. “You know, I _think_ I just may have seen one of those possibilities when the ball dropped.”

 

The light is dim on the balcony, but even so Kate can see the blush rise on Colette’s cheeks. She laughs and snakes a hand around her friend’s waist for a one-armed hug.

 

“I’m happy for you,” she says, smiling as she watches the blush deepen.

 

“Like I said, tonight I would just like to enjoy the possibilities,” Colette returns.

 

Kate restricts her comment to a raised eyebrow.

 

“I’m considering a transfer myself”

 

Colette lets out one of those little gasps Kate had thought were so affected the first few weeks they flew together.

 

A look passes across Kate’s face, like she feels as though she ought not have said it, and she finishes off her glass of champagne with something bordering on abandon.

 

“Are you, really?”

 

“Just,” Kate looks half abashed, trying to pretend that it was an off-hand comment; the smile she can’t suppress betrays her, “just a thought. Something I’m… considering.”

 

“Where will you transfer to? Have we opened a hub in Yugoslavia I’m not aware of?” Colette nudges her friend gently as she finishes her own glass.

 

For Kate’s face falls a bit. “No, no they haven’t.”

 

She looks at the skyline around them for a while, “I guess I don’t know where I’d end up. I was just a thought, anyway.”

 

 They sit together. Colette has learned Kate’s rhythms over the last two years, especially after Laura started rooming with Maggie, so she knows when the silence has lasted long enough that she can be sure Kate won’t say anything further.

 

“Did Maggie ever say _how_ she came into this little bit of money?”

 

Kate laughs, “That is probably a secret best left in 1963, don’t you think?”

 

“Come, you’ve hardly done debriefings with us since the summer and I miss your dancing.”

 

Kate takes Colette’s offered hand and stands with an exaggeratedly mistrustful look. “I will choose to take that as a compliment… for now”

 

**January 3 rd, 1964, New York**

 

During the elevator ride up to Richard’s floor of the hospital Kate thinks with chagrin that she has the combination of Pan Am’s lessons in poise and a defected British spy’s training in deception to thank for the fact that she isn’t letting the anxiety she feels make itself known with some nervous tick or a strained facial expression.

 

She still hasn’t made up her mind about taking Richard’s- the CIA’s- offer to be trained as a full agent, but with the class starting at the end of the month she knows she’ll be asked to decide soon. Given their history, she also knows she may be asked to decide suddenly, and not on her own terms.

 

The last thing she knows, that she is afraid of, is that she will probably come out of Richard’s room later that day having made her decision.

 

She reaches Richard’s closed door, hands still, face calm; but when she opens it she finds the room empty.

 

That day Kate gets an offer to take a spot on the crew of a round-the-world flight leaving the next week. She says yes.

 

 

**January 29 th, 1964, New York**

 

Kate places her bags on the floor as she turns to close her door.

 

“You missed this round of recruits at Langley,” the voice startles her and she spins on a heel.

 

“Richard!” He’s sitting, one leg over the other, on her couch. “I know being in the CIA gives you certain privileges, but this is ridiculous.”

 

“You missed this round of recruits,” he repeats, “but there’s another class starting in May. We’ll need you decision by the end of next month. And don’t think just getting on a plane to avoid giving us an answer will work this time.”

 

Kate knows there’s no point in arguing, so she takes a seat facing him.

 

“So, if I become an agent,” her voice is steady despite the hammering behind her ribs, and she realizes this disjoint is becoming habit, “do I still have to take my orders from people who disappear without warning and break into my apartment whenever they feel like it?”

 

He doesn’t respond, doesn't even change his facial expression.

 

“Honestly though, Richard, are you going to answer any of my questions before you demand that I decide?”

 

“Of course, Kate, we’re not unreasonable.” She needs to work on that, being able to blithely say something so false it sounds true, “But there are going to be limits on what I can tell you.”

 

“Ok. If I go through this training, what will the assignments be like?”

 

“They will be longer, but there will be fewer of them. We can’t risk you being recognized once you no longer have an excuse to pop up all around the globe.”

 

“So I’ll have to leave my job completely?”

 

“Yes,” No hesitation. That part was clearly non-negotiable.

 

“And what about my family? What do I tell them?”

 

“We can arrange for them believe that you have been given a position as a secretary,” Kate kept her grimace inward, “in Pan Am’s administrative branch. Something that requires that you travel extensively, possibly spend months in other countries during development negotiations.”

 

“Even Laura?”

 

“Especially Laura. With her travelling around the world, if she let something slip to the wrong person, someone might think she was working as an asset as well. It would only put her in danger.”

 

For a moment, Kate feels guilty that she’s surprised he even considered the risk to Laura. But that only lasts until she realizes the potential for Laura to let something slip is the only part of that contingency he is concerned about. It’s the guilt that _she_ never considered the risk to her sister that lingers. 

 

He pauses a while. “Anything else?”

 

“No.”

 

“Alright,” he stands and moves toward the door, “I’ll be seeing you soon for your answer.”

 

 

**May 17, 1964, Stockholm**

 

It had been nearly a year since Colette had seen John and more than a year since she’d seen him without the wife and son he conveniently forgot to mention when they met; so it came as something of a shock when he had appeared on their flight.

 

Colette had been even less ready for how he pestered her throughout the flight, alternating between apologizing and trying to flirt. He even made an excuse to walk through coach when she switched positions with Laura to get away from him. By the time they landed he’d had a few drinks and the flirting had gotten aggressive. Seeing him off the plane felt like exhaling a breath she’d been choking on for hours.   

 

That night, after a very short debriefing, she headed up to her room, where Kate appeared a few minutes later with an entire bottle of very nice red.

 

She uncorked it with a flourish, “On Pan Am, as an apology for the bad flight.”

 

Kate let her vent out her frustrations (in French, which felt even better) and didn’t comment when they went from being about John, to men, to Dean and back to men in general.

 

By the end of the bottle, they’d roundly abused the other sex and had moved on to laughing about them.

 

Colette turned on the bed to face Kate. “I’m glad you didn’t leave," she said, placing a hand on Kate’s shoulder “Today especially.”

 

“Don’t be silly, Maggie would have been only too happy to help you with that idiot.”

 

Colette stood, only a bit unsteadily. “Maggie is good for spiking someone’s drink or embarrassing them at a bar for you, but sometimes that isn’t the best solution.”

 

She leaned down and kissed Kate on each cheek.

 

“I’m glad you stayed.”

 

 

 

**January 1, 1965, Istanbul**

 

Colette takes a deep draw from the narguile on the low table and lets it out in such a long, slow stream that it draws a laugh from her exhausted friends.

 

“Ugh, ringing in the 1965 on board a flight was a terrible idea,” Laura groaned. “I blame Maggie for signing us up for this.”

 

“Hey, I was just trying to figure out a way to provide champagne like last year,” Maggie retorts.

 

“Yeah, except we didn’t actually get to _have_ any,” counters Colette.

 

“That wasn’t _my_ fault,” says Maggie, indignant.

 

“Honestly, the only part of the trip worse than when the passengers were downing champagne like water was when they found out we’d run out,” Kate says, covering her face with her hands.

 

“Ok, enough of this feel sorry for ourselves crap,” Maggie stands up. “The man in 6C said he was having a party on his yacht at ten, which,” she glances at her watch, “should give us just enough time to get ready and head down to the marina.”

 

Kate laughs, “Oh no. No, I don’t think I can deal with another enclosed space full of drunk people today.”

 

“I’m with you,” Colette says as she settles deeper into the cushions.

 

“I’m sorry, did you not hear? A party on his _yacht_ ,” she lays a hand on one hip as she cocks it to the side, “his yacht on the _Bosphorus_. Which probably has plenty of champagne to make up for last night.”

 

Maggie stares at them contemptuously for a few moments before giving up and leaving.

 

Laura give Kate once last glance, “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

 

“Yes,” Kate waves her off, “Just takes pictures for me; you’ll make it look better than it really was anyway.”

 

Laura rolls her eyes as she walks away, but she was still smiling.

 

Kate and Colette wander back down the street, picking over the stalls that were still open, and find a table at their hotel bar.

 

Kate watches the people around them and thinks how nice it is to not be working on this trip; to not have to be on the look-out for a person who’s picture she has in her pocket; to not have to make excuses to leave her friends; to not think about guarding herself from anyone other than the same pickpockets they have in New York.

 

“Kate?” Colette’s voice breaks her train of thought.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“You looked worried, are you alright?”

 

“Yes, yes I’m fine. I’m good, actually; I was just thinking how nice it is to relax for a change.”

 

Colette makes a soft sound of assent as she takes another sip.

 

A few minutes later, Kate ventures a question she hopes will be vague enough.

 

“Collette, have you ever had something… someone that made you feel like someone else? Someone you liked better than who you are?”

 

Kate can tell Colette’s wondering if she’s talking about Niko, but she doesn’t ask.

 

“Of course, yes,” To her surprise, Colette smiles.  “But those kinds of people rarely stay around for long.”

 

“So what do you do about it?”

 

Colette relaxes back in her chair and glances slowly around the room before focusing back on Kate.

 

“When you meet someone like that, you should become the person that they make you feel like; the person you’d rather be.”

 

Kate twirls the stem of her wine glass, eyes not meeting Colette’s.

 

“And if that person you feel like is dangerous, or just… if that person is trouble?”

 

Colette’s eyes narrow, “That’s your choice, I suppose.”

 

 

**September 26, 1968, Paris**

 

Colette sits beside her with her back ramrod straight and her eyes fixed blankly on the intricate mural on the opposite wall of the waiting area.

 

Almost four years of searching for her brother had led her here.

 

The secretary calls ‘Valois’ and they are escorted down a long hallway and into an office where a small man sits behind a desk covered in stacks of paper.

 

Colette drifts through fifteen minutes of bureaucratic paperwork, face impassive, before she says anything beyond ‘yes’ or ‘no’.

 

“You said he died in Portuguese Guinea?”

 

“Yes, in July. He was caught in the crossfire during a Portuguese raid on the town he lived in.”

 

“I,” Colette’s voice cracks, “I didn’t know he was living there.”

 

Kate sees her chin quiver for a moment, then she sits up straighter. “Can you tell me, what was he doing there?”

 

The man behind the desk leafs through his papers.

 

“It appears that he was helping the relief effort for Guinean refugees. He had been there almost since he graduated from University.” He glances up at Colette over the glasses perched at the end of his nose. “Now, we only need your signature on these two last papers stating that your inquiry into your brother’s whereabouts was fulfilled.”

 

All her Pan Am and CIA training doesn’t keep the look of fury from flashing across Kate’s face. She’s about to object when Colette accepts the papers and signs without glancing at their contents.

 

“Yes, of course,” she hands them back without glancing up across the desk once.

 

Kate laces her fingers into Colette’s as they stand to leave the office. During the entire walk back to their hotel, Colette doesn’t say a word but she keeps Kate’s hand a vice-like grip.

 

Colette sits on the bed without taking off her coat.

 

“Colette? Are you alright?”

 

“No.”

 

Colette’s voice is perfectly steady, and that’s what worries Kate.

 

She removes her own coat, then Colette’s, before moving to the bed. She pulls Colette up to rest against the headboard next to her, and wraps one arm around her.

 

“I’m so sorry, Colette.” she pauses, “But, it sounds like he was a truly incredible man. He seems a bit like you, actually.”

 

It starts as hitch in Colette’s breath that builds painfully into sobs. Kate holds her, smoothing one hand over her hair, placing a kiss on her temple, waiting until she sleeps.

 

**December 31, 1972, Outside Kingstown, Jamaica**

 

Kate holds up a hand to shade her eyes against the setting sun. After spending the day wandering the area around the school and visiting the classrooms, then spending the evening reading on the porch, she has to admit she’s a bit jealous of Colette.

 

The children, all orphaned refugees from Haiti, clearly adore Colette, and Kate isn’t surprised. Pan Am had trained them all to be warm and welcoming but Colette was the one who had always felt like that naturally.

 

That night, at midnight, they toast.

 

“Puissions-nous être meilleurs et plus sages que nous l'étions en 1963”

 

Kate smiles, “Always.”

 

 


End file.
